Toward the end of spring he contracted a severe cold while in reckless pursuit of an offender, in a driving rain storm, and, having caught the guilty one, he celebrated the event at the inn, in company with some congenial spirits, seated in his wet clothes, the result being an attack of rheumatism, which laid him upon a bed of sickness for some weeks. His salary was but a small one, hardly sufficient to keep his family from want, and though hitherto his farm had yielded him a comfortable living, for some months it had been left to run itself, with the inevitable results. Planting time had come and gone, and still his ground lay all untouched. His laborers had refused to work for him longer without pay, and Souter Johnny, who was now making his home at Ellisland, could only attend to the lighter chores about the farm. And now things began to take a serious outlook for our hero and his family. Though sick and discouraged, with want staring him in the face, he still sent glowing reports of his continued prosperity to his loved ones in Mossgiel, reports that filled their anxious hearts with false hopes and prayerful thankfulness. CHAPTER XXI One day during Robert’s early convalescence, Souter, after having finished his chores, sauntered leisurely through the vegetable garden. It was a peaceful nook, and there were household odors of mint, and thyme, and boy’s love, which were pleasant to the soul of Souter Johnny, and reminded him of stewed rabbit, which he dearly loved, with all its attendant delicacies. He paced the path slowly, the light of the sinking sun blazing gloriously upon the brilliant gown of his companion, who was simpering along beside him, her little gray eyes looking down on him with flattering interest as she listened with apparent delight to his tales of daring adventure. Finally their conversation drifted to the sick man within. “Poor bonnie laddie,” sighed Eppy dolefully. “To think of him being so ill. We all loved him dearly in Edinburgh.” “He hasna’ been the same lad since he returned from there,” replied Souter. “He had many great disappointments in his young life, I tell ye,” and he shook his head dismally. “An’ noo everything has gone to the dogs wi’ him, ever since he has been in Ellisland. ’Twas a sorry day when he became an exciseman, say I.” He paused a moment reflectively, then continued earnestly, “But no matter what anybody says different, he has always done his duty faithfully, always on the tramp in all kinds of weather, till at last his robust constitution has given out, an’ he bowled over, so to speak.” He loyally refrained from mentioning that Robert’s illness was partly due to his imprudent way of living. Eppy sighed again. “And he the Bard of Scotland,” she returned commiseratingly. “How I pity him. Isn’t it sad Mr. MacDougall?” “Aye,” replied Souter, with a quick look from under his shaggy eyebrows. “Ye hae a kind heart in ye, Miss McKay,” he observed after a pause.